


Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

by Bonfoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2014, Alternate Universe, Community: mini_fest, HP: EWE, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Romance, Yuletide, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take two Weasleys, add a Parkinson and a Snape, stir in a Malfoy and a Potter, and simmer during Yuletide.  Serve hot, with a side of house-elves and Christmas cheer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracogotgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/gifts), [centaury_squill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaury_squill/gifts), [amorettea](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=amorettea).



> **Challenge:** Mini_Fest’s Christmas cheer without the stress 2014 Celebration 
> 
> **Warnings:** drunkard!Draco; original house-elf
> 
> **Beta:** By the lovely Badgerlady, who always polishes my work to a high shine. Any mistakes are mine.
> 
> **A/N:** I combed through the old prompts and this is a gift for: dracogotgame, centaury_squill  & amorettea: You all had such wonderful prompts, I just couldn't help myself and I synthesized them. So, a very Merry Wizarding Holiday to you all! Original prompts at the story's end.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

~~~~~~ 

_*hiccup*_

A door slammed, a gaudy vase rattled across the top of a highly polished étagère, and something person-sized bumped along the wall.

_*hiccup, hiccup*_

"Wee Wink _le!_ Wee Winkle... _hiccup_ , where're woooo?" a slurring voice called out.

_*thump*_

_*thud*_

_*crash*_

_*crunch*_

"Damn," that same voice muttered, "Mo'her act-actually liked that bast-bust..."

~oOo~

"Fred? Oi, you manky sheet o' brother, where're you?! I'm freezing my bollocks off out here."

"Right in front of you, brother dearest." A pale, ghostly light flared and Fred found himself steps away from a sudden drop. His brother's pale form waved like a flag in a gusty breeze as he floated just out of reach.

"What's the idea of dragging me out of my warm bed and away from Pansy?" George crossed his arms and shivered, calling himself a fool in the three languages he knew as he remembered walking past his robes when he left the house.

"I need you to do me a favour, Forge." Fred hovered closer and spoke in a hushed tone. "I need you to help Snape help Malfoy find the Yuletide spirit."

George's jaw dropped and his head was shaking without his consciously moving the muscles. "Are you barmier than a Blast-Ended Skrewt crossed with a drunken Hufflepuff?" he finally gasped out. "Me? Help Snape?"

Fred guffawed, the action making him zoom around like a popped balloon until he was only chuckling. As he segued into giggles, Fred floated back to his starting point. "No, you prat. Seems the two Snakes did right by some precious powerful people, even seeing as they're dead like me, and the Powers-That-Be-Nosy want them brought into the Light, so to speak."

Rubbing his arms vigorously, George swallowed thickly and then gave a brisk nod as he turned back toward Pansy Parkinson's cottage. "Follow me, you arse. I'm going to wake Pansy, then **we** are going to have some mulled Elfin wine, and **you** are going to tell her why I'm risking my life again."

~~~~~~ 

Rolling his eyes, Severus Snape thrust out his wand and made an extravagant, intricate gesture at the pathetic garland he'd found in his mum's attic. A few poking motions and it was whole, fluffier and shinier than it had ever been in its previous incarnation. A quick flick of his wand and the garland slithered across the floor and wound itself around the wire-frame fir tree form until it vaguely resembled the glistening needles of a real tree. He stalked around the faux tree, tapping his wand against his chin, deep in thought.

He looked around his den, eyes far away, until he caught sight of a ball of red and gold wool tucked behind a book on his shelves. His eyes narrowed and he summoned the old scarf 'acquired' after a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix at Aberforth's...

> Lupin sat at an empty table tucked against the far corner. His hands were curled around a mug of mulled Spanish wine, the cinnamon and cloves scenting the air with memories of happy Christmases and innocent Yuletides.
> 
> Severus hadn't meant to linger, but Aberforth Dumbledore knew the best mulled wine and cider recipes in the Wizarding World, and when the warming drinks were free...well, Severus knew better than to turn away from something as prized as that. And, being who he was, Severus was forever on the lookout for what elusive spices Aberforth added to make each libation a miniature feast of the senses while it lasted.
> 
> Aberforth wiped a few pint glasses while looking out from under his bushy eyebrows. "Oi, Lupin, lad, come up to the bar. Otherwise, Snape here'll drink every last cup of cheer and you'll be none the warmer." He hummed under his breath as Lupin finally heaved himself out of the deep seat and walked the few feet closer.
> 
> They both sat at the bar, barely talking about nothing as Aberforth tidied the place, and then Severus pushed a steaming cup toward Lupin. "Try the cider, Lupin. Aberforth's current recipe is warm on the tongue, but with a bite at the swallow. What spices do you think do that?"
> 
> "Why do you think I'd know that? Werewolves don't have enhanced tasting ability, you know." But, Lupin took an obliging sip and then smacked his lips and quaffed a deeper draught. He licked his lips lasciviously and sighed, his eyes closing in pleasure—a sight that made Severus' trousers suddenly feel far too tight.
> 
> "Severus, I don't know how you do it, but you're correct. There's a hint of cinnamon and mace in here, but I think the bite is from some type of ginger. Perhaps slivered ginger compounded with ginger oil."
> 
> The two of them spent the next few hours dissecting Aberforth's recipe, and then convincing the man to whip up several more batches to see if they were getting closer to the real ingredient list. At night's end, Lupin had wrapped his extra scarf around Severus' throat with tender hands and a wish for another such evening.

Severus bent his head and sniffed, logically knowing there would be no scent of cinnamon or mace...or Lupin...but, logic aside, he still experienced the warmth that those memories inspired.

~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure this is going to work?" George asked. He tucked his chin into his old Gryffindor Quidditch scarf as he squinted at his brother's ghost. He warmed his hands over the small travelling cauldron they'd ordered from Aberforth's earlier. He sniffed the cinnamon- and clove-scented steam rising from it as he glanced over their preparations.

Fred moved with the chilly breeze, looking like a snow globe as snowflakes drifted through his ectoplasm. "Why wouldn't it? It's a Weasley Wizarding Wheeze." He melted into a large snowflake, revolving in place as George put the lid on the box in front of him on the table.

"You Gryffindors. Curiosity killed the cat, you know." Pansy wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, missing the pale blue dust there. George reached over and swiped his thumb over it. Both of them shared a soft smile while Fred made huffing sounds. "Shush, Ghost Boy."

"Well, smart lions know the best snakes, my dear," George said with a laugh. He pulled her close and kissed her pert nose. "Now, you set the timer on these beauties. Where's the best place to put them?"

Pansy pursed her lips and began walking back and forth, tracing a pattern only she knew. "The front door is out. No Pureblood worth their exalted salt would open it—unless they were Weasleys—and we'd have to break wards to approach it anyway. No, I think the roof's the way to go." She looked at George with a gleam in her eyes. "Even my mother thins the wards around the main chimney on Christmas Eve, you know, in honour of Father Christmas."

Fred laughed and laughed, flashing green and gold. "Okay, Forge, I begin to see what you see in this Slytherin Princess." He floated toward Pansy and swirled around her, his version of a hug. "Welcome to the family, Pansy, dear, you're perfect."

~~~~~~ 

The eagle owl passed the wards at the gates. The bird wobbled and listed to the left as it struggled with a small, steaming cauldron toward Malfoy Manor. Winkle stood in the owlery, by the owl-window, hopping from foot to foot. She bounced up and down on her toes, leaning forward every time a branch bent or a twig broke, until finally the poor bird crossed the window jamb and came to a stumbling landing without spilling a drop. "Good birdie," Winkle cooed as she pointed toward a perch and the dishes of owl-treats and water waiting for it. "Smart birdie gets many treats." The bird bowed to the house-elf and tiredly winged the few yards to the perch.

Winkle wriggled her fingers and the owl-window softly closed as she hefted the cauldron and turned toward the kitchens. She popped away after a few steps.

"Winkle! Winkle, where's the wine? I know we ordered some."

"Winkle's coming, Master Draco, coming carefully," she called out.

Draco snorted inelegantly and rubbed his face with one hand. The other hand was wrapped around an empty goblet. He sank back into his chair with a grimace as he waited for the only house-elf that listened to him to bring the only thing that helped him sleep during the holidays.

Suddenly, there was a thud and a clatter on the slate roof tiles, and what sounded like tiny hooves skittering across them. Draco jerked up to his feet, eyes raised toward the ceiling...and the roof far above.

"Winkle? Mother?" Draco called out. "Father?" When no one answered, Draco shook himself and pulled his wand from the holster he still wore on his right forearm, his right hand still clenched around the tilting goblet. "Who's there? I warn you, this is Malfoy Manor, and it will defend itself!" he hollered.

A soft pop was his only warning and then Winkle was there, another goblet of tantalizing warmth cradled between her hands. "Master Draco yells. Here is drink from goaty wizard." She grabbed the empty goblet and replaced it with the full one between one blink and the next, leaving Draco torn between sitting down and sipping the mind-numbing nectar of the season and hexing whoever was still gallivanting across his roof.

Winkle crossed her arms over her chest and gave as close to a glare as a house-elf could mete out. "Drinkesies, Master Draco. Birdie is very tired with special order." Feeling the weight of her stare, Draco gulped down half the mulled cider, smacked his lips at the tingling that spread through his body, warmth racing along in its wake. "Again, Master Draco." He finished the goblet and then thrust the empty vessel at Winkle, something that surprised both of them.

"Do you hear that noise, Winkle?" She shook her head, her ears flapping. Draco ignored her and began walking toward the stairs. The scrabbling came again. "Well, I do. Some ignorant arse is trying to have me on, and I won't stand for it anymore!" he declared.

The house-elf watched her master climbing the stairs, and sniffed the goblet in her hand, even going so far as to swipe one finger through the dregs and licking it. "Nope," she muttered, "still good." She shook her head and then smiled. "Maybe sweeter." With that, she popped away.

~~~~~~ 

While the derelict-looking, dark house showed a greyed and shadowy face to the world, inside Severus was giving way to his secret love: his kitchen was redolent with the aromas of cardamom and cinnamon, ginger and candied orange peel, nutmeg and vanilla bean; his sideboard was groaning under the weight of several platters of Fire-brandied fruitcake and Russian teacakes in the shape of horseshoes and gingerbread men and women dressed in their cream cheese-iced finery; and, the walls sported glittering, twinkling strands of Muggle Christmas lights and magical ivies where Winter Faeries fluttered and sparkled. Several more fir tree forms were covered with tinsel, garland and felt, bright, cheerful spots inside the once dark and dingy house.

He was surrounded by a mound of ribbons and bows, all gleaming like jewels spilling out of a treasure chest as he wrapped Yule gifts. Each one was a heartfelt wish he was granting, things overheard in passing over the years, ferreted out during his decades as a spy, and horded for a time he'd thought he'd never have—a time of peace. A thin smile quirked his lips and he suddenly laughed, a carefree and easy sound that no one but Lily and Remus had ever heard. The laughter died away slowly, but the smile didn't leave his face.

"Here's to Lily." Severus raised a crystal cup filled with Aberforth's mulled berry cider in a toast. "Here's to Remus." His other hand held up a fairy cake iced with white and dark chocolate. "I won't let another year pass without sharing your gifts." He sipped the cider and took a bite of the cake, alternating until everything was gone; then he finished wrapping the presents while whistling 'Chestnuts Roasting on a Dragon's Breath'.

~~~~~~ 

_"Listen, you rock-headed cretin, I want Potter! I don't care if it's Christmas Eve. Send him to Malfoy Manor within the next half hour or I'll hex your bollocks off with a smile on my face and sue you for endangerment!"_

Draco flung himself backward, away from the green flames of the Floo. He stopped short of his chair and landed on the rug in front of it. Several portraits snickered and then bit their lips when Draco glared at them as he pulled himself up and into it. He muttered into his fist, waiting for a response to his third Floo-call.

There was another flurry of scrabbling noises above his head and he sprang out of his chair with a growl. His wand was in his hand, the shimmer of wild magic barely restrained scintillating around his arm. He spontaneously apparated to the third-floor landing and found himself scowling at the door to the attics which was also the only safe way to the roofs.

"Winkle! WINKLE!" he shouted. Winkle popped by his side, and a few other house-elves, some of the Malfoy ones that Granger had helped free during the war, appeared behind her, hosed and shod in badly knitted Christmas elf costumes.

"Master Draco, yous knows Winkle has Chrissymas panto tonight." Winkle pursed her lips and shook her head. The other house-elves muttered amongst themselves, but didn't flinch when Draco bared his teeth at her.

"You're my house-elf—"

"I's employee, Master Draco, an' friend. But yous is ruining Chrissymas with yells and snarls."

Whatever was on the roof skittered a few feet and then landed with a thump against the slate tiles. Everyone looked upward.

"You heard _that_ , didn't you?" Draco bit out. His eyes were getting a bit wild. Winkle made a snap decision.

"Winkle goes to get Harry Potter Sir." She disappeared silently, leaving Draco staring at a group of bemused, red-and-green felt-wearing house-elves.

Stepping away from the attic door, Draco swallowed his anger and fear and smiled crookedly at the house-elves. Suddenly he asked, "So, what's this year's panto?" They blinked and then stared back at him, hands gently tugging at ears.

~~~~~~ 

Sniffling and snuffling, Harry Potter blew his nose on an extra large, flashing red-and-white handkerchief. He reached for a Pepper-up Potion—the only one standing in a mess of empty flasks on his coffee table—but grabbed his wand and conjured a Shield Charm seconds before a house-elf popped into existence in his living room.

"Harry Potter Sir, oh, Harry Potter Sir, yous is needed at Malfoy Manor." Winkle stood wringing her hands.

Harry sneezed and grabbed for his handkerchief. "Can't you thee I'm thick?" Harry asked after he blew his nose. "Kingthley thent me home, for Chrithake." Harry gulped down the Pepper-up Potion, the steam billowing out of his ears tinged with green. Harry moved his head and saw the steam and gestured at it. "Thee, green theam. Meanth I've got a wizarding flu." He closed his eyes and huddled back into his cushions, tugging his blankets over his chest and up over his nose. "Now, go 'way..."

Winkle dragged the blankets down with a sigh. "Harry Potter Sir, Master Draco needs yous," she said softly. 

Dragging in a tortured breath, Harry coughed up a glowing, floating piece of phlegm that escaped his handkerchief. Winkle pointed her finger at it and it turned into a spray of white poinsettias just kissed with red. She caught it and gave it to Harry, who smiled tiredly.

"Nice trick, but it doezn't make me want to thave Malfoy'z arthe." He coughed wetly, and winced, rubbing his chest. "Jus' have to let Nature take its courthe..."

"If Winkle makes Harry Potter Sir breathes better, yous come to Malfoy Manor?" She rocked back and forth on her heels while Harry fought and lost the urge to hack up more phlegm until he was breathless and red-faced. When he jerkily nodded 'yes', she picked up the spray of poinsettias and wiped them over his lips, across both cheeks and down his throat. A prickling heat bloomed along the trails and Harry's skin glistened with it. He pushed aside his blankets as he began sweating profusely, green tendrils of fog streaming off of his body.

"What the hell?!" Harry squirmed as the virus poured out of him in a noxious cloud. Soon, drenched in sweat, but pink with renewed health, Harry sat up properly. The green cloud coagulated together and then shrank in on itself until it disappeared with a high-pitched whine. "Why don't house-elves do that all the time?" He wiped at the moisture on his arms and chest, and then he just gave up. "You know what? Never mind. I'm for a shower and then you'll get me past the Malfoy wards, all right?"

"Oh, yeses, Harry Potter Sir. And, we's take care of the babies, Harry Potter Sir. Big boys and girls should be smarter." She grinned at the look on Harry's face and then they both laughed.

"Yeah, you're right. Should be smarter, but everyone needs some help every once in a while, so thank you." He patted Winkle's shoulder as he strode past her.

~~~~~~ 

Severus looked over his pile of presents, counted them once more, and nodded sharply. When he looked into the old mirror over the mantle, he saw a thin, dapper gentleman dressed in fine wool trousers, a brilliant white linen shirt covered with a merry red velvet embroidered waistcoat, an old-fashioned cravat with a gold stick pin, and a small but happy smile.

He ran his hands down his velvet waistcoat, fingers tracing the holly and ivy embroidered on the front panels. He fluffed out his fine linen and lace cravat, enjoying the tactile sensations against his fingertips. He then turned toward the clothespress and opened the door to reveal an equally old-fashioned black velvet frock coat lined in crimson satin and a top hat embellished with two sprigs of magical holly tucked into a crimson band. The fairies glimmering on the walls cheered and clapped once he was dressed. Severus bowed deeply.

"Thank you. Now, you all know what to do tonight?" The fairies blinked off-and-on. Severus physically opened his window and stood back. "Then off you go! Go and spread good cheer!" The fairies flew through the window and out into the world until the ivy strands were only lit by the old Muggle Christmas lights. Severus shrank the gifts and sent them into a large, red sack lying on the floor. Once it was filled, he cinched it closed and swung it onto his shoulder. "Right then, my turn." He apparated away, leaving behind what sounded like 'The Carol of the Bells' to fade into the quiet room.

~~~~~~ 

Hair damp from his shower, Harry shrugged on his Auror robes with a deep, easy breath. He inhaled and exhaled again and laughed. "Harry James Potter, you are one lucky sod," he said under his breath.

"Harry Potter Sir, is yous ready?" Winkle was bouncing on her toes.

He pushed up his glasses, muttered Hermione's stickum charm to keep them from falling off his face—just in case—and pulled on his ministry-mandated gloves, you know, _just in case there was something with sharp, vicious, snapping teeth to be manhandled._ Harry chuckled to himself as he read the embroidered phrase that wrapped around each wrist. "All right, Miss Winkle. Lead on!" he called out as he cocked an elbow toward the blushing house-elf.

She reached out, but leaned to the side, around Harry, which made him turn around. They watched as his windows began to frost over in fantastically detailed designs of ivies, hollies, and evergreens. Harry raised his eyebrows at Winkle and she mouthed 'Christmas fairies' at him. He grinned and watched as all the windows in his living room were decorated from the outside, lending a real holiday feel to the former sickroom. 

"Now that's a pretty sight," Harry said with a grin. "All right, Miss Winkle, let's go save Malfoy's arse for Christmas, yeah?" They popped away in silence, the fire banking itself without anyone in the room.

~~~~~~ 

"Don't you hear _that_?" Draco was pacing back and forth in front of the house-elves, muttering toward them and ignoring the fact that none of them had said anything in response after Winkle's had popped away. "I mean, if my ears can hear that scrabbling on the roof slates...?"

"Then that just means you're paranoid, Malfoy."

Draco spun on his heel and saw Harry _ruddy, hale, and sex-on-legs_ Potter leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and smiling—smiling, for Merlin's sake—at Draco. He even nodded at the suddenly vociferous group of house-elves, calling some by name as he complimented on their panto costumes. "Greens, you're Father Christmas this year? Oh, that's wonderful, and, is that Buckle? You're looking good, how's the little one?" It went on for at least five minutes as Draco's jaw worked silently.

Draco just began to form a very nasty word when Potter stood up properly and stepped closer, close enough for Draco to inhale his healthy scent and stutter to a gurgling stop. Potter smiled and asked a surprising question, "So, is a good time to talk, Malfoy?"

"Ah, yes..." Draco pointed up, toward the skittering sound it seemed he was the only one to hear. "Noises...on the roof."

"Miss Winkle said you might need some help." Potter smiled, not smirked, as Draco looked down at the house-elf blushing at his side. "So, what are you hearing? Eight tiny reindeer? Any 'ho, ho, ho' sounds?" He reached into a pocket and pulled out a notepad and a Muggle pen, poised to take down Draco's answers.

"Don't be patronizing, Potter." Draco leaned back and then stepped away. "I keep hearing something, hooves, claws, whatever sliding across the roof tiles." 

"Not patronizing, Malfoy, just in the spirit of the season." Potter's demeanour became more professional. "Mr. Malfoy, please state the nature of your complaint."

"It started earlier today, when I was drinking the old goat's wassail."

"And just who is 'the old goat'?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore. He's the best wassail-maker in Wizarding England, as far as I'm concerned."

"Go on."

"Well, I was enjoying my wassail and then the noise, scrambling, screeching...it's not supposed to be happening here!" Draco flapped his hands distractedly. "I wasn't drunk, you know. I heard someone on the roof and I still do."

Potter finished writing something in his notebook and then put it and the Muggle pen away. "Okay. Now, if the panto crew would give me some room to investigate..." Winkle nodded happily and then hallway was empty but for the two wizards. Suddenly, there was a crashing sound above their heads and Harry's wand appeared in his right hand as his left hand was pressed against Draco's racing heart. "Yeah, Malfoy, you've got something upstairs."

"There's only one safe door." Draco pointed at it and Potter nodded.

"Well, as we're in this together, why don't you call me Harry? As a Christmas present." Potter flashed a wicked smile over his shoulder as he cautiously opened the door, a barely whispered 'Lumos' illuminating the tip. "Ready to find out why Father Christmas is trying to come down your chimney?" He led the way up a short set of stairs, Draco right behind, enjoying the view.

~~~~~~ 

Severus pushed the box marked _Malfoy_ closer to the main chimney. For some reason, this last one wasn't sliding as well as the others, but then again, it **was** Malfoy Manor. He huffed and sent a garland of holly and fir branches down the chimney, relying on his memories of the layout to send them to Draco's room. Baubles of plain gold and silver tied with green velvet ribbons followed after, bobbing through the cool night air to drop down the chimney with a soft tinkle.

Severus stood with eyes closed, directing the baubles through the corridors toward the main foyer where they'd hang from the chandeliers and the banisters. He had his hand up to send another garland—this one of braided velvet ribbons and fir branches—when he thought he heard hushed whispered coming from nearby the chimney.

"Ah, Malfoy, when did Snape rise from the dead and become Father Christmas?"

The garland hit the roof with a whoosh as Severus' eyes flew open. "Potter? What the hell are you doing on Malfoy's roof?"

"I could ask you the same. _Sir._ But that's least of your worries." He pointed past Severus' shoulder. "I think there's something else—" A snowball hit Potter's shoulder, cutting him off.

"What's going on, Potter? What did you say about Snape?" Draco called out just before he stepped onto the roof. His foot hit the garland of braided velvet and he blasted it with a Reducto curse before he realized what it was. "Why is there garland on my roof?"

Severus growled out, "Better to ask why we're going to get bombarded with snowballs." Then a flurry of snowballs began pelting them, puffs of fluffy snow and sparkles filling the air.

~~~~~~ 

"It's working." Pansy looked deeply into her crystal ball. "Snape's on the roof, laughing at Draco, and Potter's trying to protect the poor sod from the snowballs and now they're both slipping and sliding... Oh! Draco's falling down the roof!"

George leaned over her shoulder, trying to see what she saw. Fred threw himself at the crystal ball and vanished, astonishing the other two.

"Did you know ghosts could do that?" George asked.

Pansy shook her head. "No, but I didn't think Fred knew he could either." She leaned forward, focused on the ball. "Oh, George, he's holding Draco right at the edge of the roof... Now, Snape's making a rope out of garlands. Potter's collecting our snowballs and making a hovering block for Draco to stand on...and, oh, that's interesting...."

George squinted at the crystal ball, chagrined he couldn't see what was going on. "Pansy, what's happening? Tell me, woman, tell me!"

"Snape's laughing like a loon, lover. Fred's racing between him and Potter and Draco." Pansy leaned back and smirked. "Fred and Snape are sneaking away. Seems Potter's rescue of Draco involves more than garlands and ice; now, they're pressed against the chimney, kissing. And there's a great ball of mistletoe hovering over them made up of our magical snowballs." She laughed. "Every time they take a breath, the kissing ball drops down and nudges them on the heads."

George hugged her from behind. "Happy Christmas, Mrs.-soon-to-be-Weasley."

Pansy turned in her chair. "Blessed Yule, Mr.-soon-to-be-Pansy-Weasley's-husband."

On the other side of the window, Fred shared a smirk with Severus Snape. "Well, that's two good deeds done this year.

Severus tilted his top hat at a jaunty angle. "You know, Weasley, I could use a good Ghost of Christmas..." his voiced faded away in a frosty cloud.

"Well, Snape, this is your lucky Christmas." Fred stuck out his hand, shocked when Severus' hand clasped his.

"Don't be thick, Weasley. I'm magic, just like you." Smirking, Severus disappeared in a peppermint-scented cloud.

"Well, well, well," Fred crowed, "Happy Christmas to me! Wait up, Snape!"

Severus' disembodied voice called out from near the gate. "Well, do hurry up, Weasley. I've got more decorating to do. Aberforth's is next on my list."

~~~~~~ 

_~~~ En Fin ~~~_

**Author's Note:**

> A combination of the following prompts:
> 
> dracogotgame (Aug. 16th, 2014 02:26 am (local)) ~ Drunk Draco is convinced there's an intruder in the Manor. He can hear thumping and scraping on the roof and there is definitely someone in his chimney. He demands for Auror Potter to come over and investigate on the double.
> 
> ~oOo~
> 
> centaury_squill (Aug. 19th, 2013 09:08 am (local)) ~ Fred and George's enchanted snowballs have unexpected powers.
> 
> ~oOo~
> 
> amorettea (Aug. 19th, 2013 02:18 pm (local)) ~ Unbeknownst to everyone else, Severus Snape LOVES to decorate for the holidays.  
> Enchanted mistletoe can be set on fire by a well-aimed curse.  
> Fruit cake is disgusting. Unless you have the magical recipe.  
> There is wrapping a gift and then there is WRAPPING A GIFT!


End file.
